


So Pretty

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, Bottom Derek Hale, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Feminization, Lingerie, M/M, POV Derek, POV Derek Hale, Panty Kink, Praise Kink, Smut, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles reveals a kink to Derek, who then discovers a different one of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for the adorable [Steph](http://annoyinglycute.tumblr.com/)! Have a happy one!
> 
> Unbetaed, because I was so late writing this, so no time. 
> 
> Also, it kinda developed beyond the panties I promised, and I can't bring myself to feel bad. 

“Do you think it's weird?” Stiles asks, still out of breath.

 

“As compared to what? Werewolves and kanimas?”

 

Derek is proud that he managed to put so many words together, seeing as he's currently about as fucked out as he's ever been. He arches in a small stretch, enjoying the ache of well-used... everything, before the sensations have a chance to fade with his healing ability.

 

Stiles huffs, but Derek can smell the smugness on him. Which, he has to admit, is completely deserved. “No, doofus, I mean from a completely boring non-supernatural kinky fucker perspective. I guess what I'm asking is... was this okay for you?”

 

Of course, Derek thinks wryly to himself. Of course stealing and lying and occasional acts of violence don't bring on even a shred of insecurity for Stiles. No, of course it's the _sex_.

 

“Seriously?” he groans into the pillow, completely unwilling to move. “Look at me. You broke me. I'm even admitting it. Go shout it from the rooftops, I don't care, just let me enjoy my damn afterglow, idiot.”

 

Finally Stiles' scent loses that hint of concern, and Derek sighs, heartfelt, when he snuggles in close.

 

“So. Not weird?”

 

“No.”

 

“So you don't mind doing it again sometime?”

 

“Definitely won't mind.”

 

“... now?”

 

Derek snorts and finally turns his head to look at Stiles. He looks disheveled, flushed, sweaty, everything askew, bright-eyed and so beautiful it kinda hurts a little bit to look at. But even werewolves have their limits.

 

“Jeez, Stiles, gimme a few minutes at least. Besides, I think we ruined your outfit.”

 

Stiles looks down at himself, as if he's forgotten what he's wearing, and weirdly that makes Derek's spent cock perk up and take notice. The idea that Stiles feels so comfortable in those clothes that he might wear them more, maybe under his jeans and flannels, is somehow crazy hot.

 

“Oh. Right.”

 

The stockings that looked so smooth and silvery are now crumbled, and have runs in several places. Stiles takes them off without care, obviously considering them casualties of war. The garter seems to have made it through almost intact, apart from a few stains, but the panties... the panties are _ruined_.

 

And, yeah, Derek could definitely be talked into round three pretty soon.

 

When he'd come home to find Stiles snapping on the garter strap, and trying for all the world to look like he wasn't _reeking_ of nerves, Derek had been hard pressed to not just drop everything, and jump him right there, because _wow_. Stiles doesn't do anything by halves, and the soft pink lace and satin fit hit him like a second skin, obviously bought for his size and for a _guy_. Derek didn't even know they _made_ stuff like this for guys.

 

Then again, it hasn't ever really been a kink of Derek's, so he can't say he's ever really given it much thought.

 

But obviously Stiles has, and Derek hadn't even realized at the time how big of an issue it was for Stiles to even bring it up. And like an idiot he'd just said “sure,” confident that Stiles would let him know, vocally, at length, if they needed to talk more.

 

“I don't wanna be your bitch!” Stiles had blurted, and Derek had paused, baffled.

 

“Uh. Okay? I'm confused,” he admitted, because if being with Stiles had taught him anything, it was to be straightforward about problems, or they wouldn't be addressed.

 

“I just-” Stiles had said, stilted and fidgeting. “I just don't want you to see this and assume I want you to top, okay?”

 

Derek had made a point then of giving Stiles a thorough once-over before meeting his wary gaze.

 

“Okay. I don't see how lingerie would change your preferences, but okay.”

 

Because Stiles does not like to bottom. Never has. He will, occasionally, mostly because he thinks it'll please Derek, but he doesn't seem to realize that Derek's preference is _everything_. As long as it involves Stiles, Derek's dick has developed a downright Pavlovian response, and by now Stiles could probably get Derek off without ever even touching him. They should try that some day, Derek decides. Some day, when he's not feeling like he's just had his brains fucked out of him.

 

He pretty much has, though. Once it finally dawned on Stiles that Derek has no perception of common stereotypes in lingerie appreciation circles all bets were off, and Derek can't even remember the last time Stiles or anyone fucked him with that level of enthusiasm. If all it takes is a pretty outfit to get Stiles to do that again, Derek will buy him a whole closet full.

 

They're definitely gonna need spares anyway, because the panties Stiles is peeling off are never gonna be wearable again, smeared with lube, sweat and come, leg hole slightly ripped from how violently Derek had torn the crotch of the panties aside to swallow Stiles down.

 

Derek's hands had wandered restlessly, smoothing up and down the silky stockings, sneaking under the garter straps and clutching at Stiles' phenomenal satin-wrapped ass. Stiles had made a fantastic noise, and fucked Derek's face roughly, just the way he loves it but can never really get Stiles to go along with. The garter belt had turned out to be an excellent hand-hold, and it had all been over in minutes. The lingerie is still not a specific kink of Derek's, but he can definitely appreciate it.

 

Especially since it made Stiles ready for round two in record time, and Derek was literally biting his pillow by the end, his first _and_ second orgasm punched out of him by Stiles relentlessly fucking him for twenty straight minutes.

 

Stiles flops down on the bed again, now naked, and already starting to fidget like he always does when he's gearing up for something.

 

“Out with it,” Derek rumbles, still too mellow to be really snappish.

 

“Say, hypothetically, I bought another outfit. For you. Would you wear it?”

 

Derek takes the time to consider it, if nothing else just because it seems important to Stiles. “Sure,” he says eventually, and then remembers that more words are sometimes better. “I can't say I care much one way or the other, but if it means sex this good I'll wear whatever the fuck you want,” he admits, and resigns himself to the smugness. It does come, but along with it comes... contentment? Derek has to lift his head off the pillow to get another whiff, just to make sure, because he wasn't quite expecting that.

 

“I'd love to see you in it. The outfit, I mean. That I totally hypothetically bought for you,” Stiles says, rapid-fire, but soft, eyes dragging across Derek's face like a caress. “Seriously, you'd look so pretty.”

 

And, wow, okay, _hello there_ kink-Derek-didn't-even-know-he-had. Curious, he investigates.

 

“Yeah? Tell me more.”

 

Stiles looks like it's Christmas, and rolls Derek over until he's on his back and they're nose to nose. “Oh my god, Derek. You'd look... _amazing_ in satin. So fucking gorgeous. Like, your skin is already unreal, but... satin would make you fucking _glow_.”

 

“...oh?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, oh god. So fucking pretty, I'll need to take a million pictures, because I have to show the world what a fucking work of art I somehow got into my bed. Shit, yes, I'll have to learn how to paint or something. No camera can really capture how... seriously delicious you'll look.”

 

There's no way Stiles can miss the way Derek's cock is poking at his hip now, and, because he's wonderfully perceptive even when come-drunk and bed-warm, Stiles catches on almost immediately to what Derek only just realized in the last minute or so.

 

“You like it when I call you pretty?”

 

Derek nods, feeling vaguely awkward. It's not like Stiles hasn't praised his virtues to the sky before, it's just never been this specific type of praise, and the difference it makes to Derek is startling.

 

“Then I will. I'll tell you, in the most painstaking detail how pretty I think you are. Panties or no panties. God, just... look at you. Your hair is so soft, your eyes are fucking stunning, I know I tell you this every other day, but it's true. Your _lips_ , oh, wow, so perfect. We should get some lipstick or something, make everyone sit up and take notice.”

 

The way Derek's cock jumps is almost painful, and Stiles watches, mesmerized as Derek licks said lips, drying out fast thanks to how hard he's panting already.

 

“Shit, yes. I should get you all dolled up and take you outside where everyone can see. And they'll all be jealous of my beautiful, beautiful boyfriend, but they can just sit there and watch while you smear your make-up all over my dick.”

 

Derek whimpers at that mental image, and Stiles reaches some kind of breaking point if his answering groan is anything to go by.

 

“ _Shit_ , Derek, lemme-”

 

Not needing to be asked twice, Derek spreads his legs immediately, letting Stiles settle between them, his hard cock rutting gently against his perineum.

 

“You good for another go? Not too sore?”

 

Derek _is_ sore, but he's also suddenly and shockingly desperate, and reaches down to pull his legs up and apart by the knees in silent invitation.

 

“Fuck,” Stiles gasps. “Fuck, yeah, baby, open that pretty hole for me,” he says, and Derek grunts as a heavy drop of pre-come blurts out onto his stomach. Stiles reaches out a finger to scoop it up to his mouth, and smacks his lips as if it's a rare delicacy.

 

“Mmm. Gorgeous and tasty. And all mine,” he breathes, reaching down to shove two fingers into Derek's still loose and slick ass.

 

“Please,” Derek begs, so low it's only barely audible to Stiles, but it's clearly enough to get him moving, because barely a second later his fingers are replaced by the fat head of his cock, opening Derek up again easily.

 

“Oh my god, Derek, I wish you could see this. Your gorgeous ass just swallowing my cock. So fucking filthy and beautiful. I'll never get tired of fucking you. Ever. _Fuck_.”

 

He sets a hard pace, balls slapping lewdly with every thrust. All Derek can do is hang on, and reach down to jerk himself furiously once Stiles takes over the task of holding his legs open.

 

“Shit, yes, jerk that lovely cock for me, babe. Lemme see you come, all over yourself. You look so fucking good covered in come. Should I come on you too? Maybe on your pretty face?”

 

Derek lets out a sharp gasp as pleasure lances through him, and he pulls desperately at his dick while Stiles fucks him open all over again.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. Gonna fuck you dry, and then I'm gonna pull out and shoot my load all over your face. Wanna see it drip from your eyelashes. From your lips. Fuck, _fuck_. Come on, baby. Make yourself pretty for me.

 

And Derek does. Can't not. His stomach clenches painfully as he comes powerfully for the third time that day, come pooling hot and slick on his sternum. And he's barely gotten his muscles to relax when Stiles pull out with an obscene sound, and yanks Derek closer with one hand, jerking himself frantically with the other, completely uncaring of the mess he's making. And Derek just tilts his head up and closes his eyes, ready and eager for it as always, which is all Stiles needs.

 

“Fuck!” he cries, and the first hot spurt splashes across Derek's nose, followed by several others, and before long Stiles has his wish.

 

He's wheezing in desperate breaths, and stares at Derek's face with something like awe until Derek reaches up to start cleaning himself. Stiles stops him, wipes his hands on the sheets like an asshole, only so he can reach for his phone on the nightstand. Derek swallows hard. They've never done _this_ before. But to know that Stiles was _serious_... it's almost enough to get Derek going again. Almost.

 

“Don't move. Fuck, don't move,” Stiles pants, and has to try several times to make his phone do his bidding with shaking hands. The shutter goes off, and Derek jumps, not sure he's liking it, but then Stiles shuts off his phone and tosses it aside.

 

“Jesus Christ, you're the most beautiful thing in the universe right now, baby.”

 

And, well, Derek never thought that a little underwear could open up a whole new world to him like this, but he's definitely excited to see what the future brings.

 

End.

 


End file.
